


take your brother outside

by oddishly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't need an excuse to fuck his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take your brother outside

**Author's Note:**

> for glovered.

Dean doesn't need an excuse to fuck his brother, but it sure is nice when Sam presents him with one. It makes Dean feel like they're on the same page, like he can get on with fucking Sam already and not have to bother with all the social niceties.

Sam's in a mood, which means Dean is going to have to fuck him out of it. 

He watches Sam swim another sulky lap of the pool. They're at some business networking event, lots of guys in suits standing around and talking about how big their dicks are, or something, and the Leviathan they've got their sights on is standing at Dean's 4 o'clock and Sam's 7-8-9 o'clock.

Dean doesn't give a crap about any of it. Sam's been acting pissy all day, and now he's propping himself up on the edge of the pool all wet and dripping while he bats his eyelashes at the CEO of My Dick's Bigger Than Your Dick, who is _also_ wet and dripping if the way his gaze keeps dipping is anything to go by. That's okay, people are allowed to look at Sam. There's a lot of him to look at.

Dean watches Sam heft himself higher up the poolside. Not so that it's obvious. Just like he's real interested in what the other guy is saying. Looks like he's making it pretty convincing. 

It's kind of cute, actually. The suit thinks he's getting somewhere.

Dean waits until Sam stops his little game and heads back down the length of the pool, and times his own walk to the shallow end for when Sam's palm slaps down on the side. He crouches neatly and flicks Sam's wrist, innocuous enough that anyone watching wouldn't think anything of it, getting Sam's attention just like that. "Having fun?"

"This is a really bad idea," Sam says, completely disregarding Dean's question. Sam's good at ignoring social niceties, too. "A really fucking awful bad idea. Do you have any idea who I was just talking to?" 

"No," says Dean.

"No," agrees Sam. "Of course you don't. That's why this is a bad idea. We are in such deep shit if they find us out, Dean. Which they're going to, any minute now."

He's remembering to keep his voice down but Dean doesn't think that's going to matter if anyone else notices the look on Sam's face. It's not the look of politely bored businessmen making small talk in the garden, that's for sure. It's more the take-me-now look.

Well. Dean thinks it is. "That's what I bring you along for," he says. "Someone pretty on my arm to remember names and faces for me." 

"We're not supposed to know each other!"

Dean leans in. He decides to angle the conversation in a slightly different direction. "Is that going to be a problem when I fuck you?"

Sam recovers from his surprise admirably well. "I told you, man, no roleplay."

"I remember," Dean says. Sam doesn't seem to realise that he's halfway out of the pool, same as with the CEO guy, only this time kind of heated instead of flirtatious. He's blowing their cover all by himself.

Dean keeps Sam's eye. Sam's the one who said they should pretend never to have met. Dean, frankly, couldn't give a shit what the rest of the party thinks. "I asked if it would be a problem when I fuck you."

"You're not fucking me."

"Oh, I am," Dean replies calmly.

"Not here, you're not."

See? Fucking _begging_ for a fucking with that attitude. Dean smiles at him. "I'll fuck you where I like, when I like, Sam. Right now I'm thinking - " he thinks " - that wall over there."

Sam looks. The wall in question is hidden by a row of shrubbery and not much else, just around the side of the house. Sam should be pleased Dean's giving him that much. Dean's half-inclined to take him right, here right now, rest of the party be damned, but it's taken them weeks to find this particular Leviathan. Dean's not up for having to start over.

Dean frowns when Sam doesn't start protesting immediately. If he thinks he's going to out-silence Dean from this he's got another thing coming. Another several things. Repeatedly.

When Sam looks back at Dean, his mouth is open, lips wet. "What if they see?" he asks. There's an edge of something interesting in his voice, if you know to look for it.

Dean swallows down on an absurd burst of pride and lets his lips curve up. "Then we'll give them a show, Sammy."

*

After that, it doesn't take too much effort to get Sam out of the pool. Dean gives him instructions like they're in fourth grade – go stand there and don't move and if I'm longer than five minutes then still don't move – except that if Sam gets this right then the end result is orgasms for everyone, so it's not quite like that.

Dean waits exactly four minutes and thirty seven seconds before going to see if Sam has done as ordered.

Sam has. He's plastered up against the house in his swim trunks and a shirt he hasn't bothered to do up. Probably because it's one of Dean's. It probably _won't_ do up. 

"Well done, Sammy," Dean says. He thinks about checking the view of the pool over his shoulder, he doesn't want Sam to get distracted, but then figures that's kind of the point. Distract him from being distracted.

"Gonna take care of me?" Sam asks. He's being facetious but Dean doesn't mind, because they both know the answer and neither of them has any intention of it ever changing.

Dean arranges his brother how he wants him against the wall, legs spread and hips thrust forward and mouth open. He realises halfway through that he's murmuring encouragement for Sam, sentimental crap that usually means someone's about to get hit. Or laugh. Sam seems to be enjoying it at the moment, though. Dean keeps on with his cooing.

He can see Sam's dick straining through the material and all it takes is one yank for them to come down, the shirt immediately after. Sam's cock bounces up red and swollen. Dean congratulates himself on a good choice well-made, and makes an immediate executive decision that Sam's going to wear swim trunks and nothing else for – well, Dean doesn't see any reason for him to even bother with swim trunks, most of the time.

Sam shifts impatiently. Dean stops fussing and snaps his gaze up. "You want me to leave you like this?" he asks, eyebrows raised.

Sam freezes. "No."

Dean doesn't bother answering. He lets Sam stew for a moment, turns half away to fiddle with the inexplicable zipper on his pocket. He smiles at the worried little hitch in Sam's breathing, and only turns back when he's found what he was looking for. "Relax, dude, I'm not going anywhere." He rips the packet open at the top and squeezes a lick of lube onto the fingers of one hand. He deliberately doesn't meet Sam's eye while he does it, getting his fingers good and slick, and decides to get straight into opening Sam up.

Sam gives a pleased sort of grunt at the stretch of Dean's first finger. Dean bares his teeth and looks up, having a good idea what that noise looks like on Sam's face but wanting to see it anyway.

Sam isn't even looking at him. He's flicking looks over Dean's shoulders, first one side then the other. 

Dean narrows his eyes. "Look at _me_ , dude. Not at them." He pushes another finger in and generously doesn't tell Sam off when his eyelids flicker shut for a moment. He opens them back up to Dean.

Dean crooks his fingers up. He'd really like to get on with it but fuck, Sam's so hot when he's squirming like this. 

Maybe he'd be hot on someone else's fingers, too. Sulky and whining because he wants it to be Dean he's getting off on.

Dean thinks about that for a minute, flaring his fingers a little because he likes the way Sam whimpers with it, and decides the idea has merit. "Hey, Sam," he says, and starts working another finger in. "Think you'd like it if I found someone else to do this bit for me?"

Sam snorts. "Think you always were a lazy bastard."

Fuck slow. Dean jabs all three fingers in at once and takes immense satisfaction from the sight of Sam's eyes rolling up. "Careful, Sammy."

"Sorry," Sam breathes. He's letting out little gusts of breath with every thrust of Dean's fingers. "Won't you – Dean. Please. Want your cock." 

"You didn't answer my question."

Sam moans, all long and scraping. Dean rolls his eyes. "Don't think that's getting you out of it," he says, but decides he can pull an answer out of him later. Or maybe lick it out. Sam always gets chatty when Dean's tongue is halfway up his ass. Dean really likes taking his time to exploit that.

Later. For now, Dean tips forward and sucks a drop of sweat – chlorine – off Sam's throat. 

Sam swallows. Dean leaves his mouth where it is, liking the feel of it. "You want something, Sam?"

"Your cock," Sam says again. Kinda rough. "I want you to fuck me." He's trying to keep his voice down but Sam never has been any good at staying quiet. Dean nips at his skin to get another moan out of him. Sam obliges. "Please –"

Dean doesn't like saying no to Sam. He soothes the nip with his tongue and draws back, fingers popping out all warm and slick. He gives them to Sam to suck clean.

Sam whines when Dean pulls away again. "Come _on_ , dude." 

"You want me to fuck you or not?" Dean demands. He fumbles through his jacket pocket, trying to find the little packet of lube.

"Yeah – "

"Then shut up. Or do something useful and suck my dick."

Sam drops, and has Dean out of his pants in seconds.

It's a good few moments before Dean remembers what they're supposed to be doing here. He slips his hands into Sam's hair to stop him sucking down the length of him again. Sam looks up at him through his eyelashes, vaguely bereft. Jesus fuck. Dean will never get bored of his baby brother on his knees like this.

"I know," Dean says. He draws Sam off gently. A string of precome stretches between his dick and Sam's mouth before it breaks.

Sam's head tilts, listening to something just to the side that Dean can't hear. It might be the party. Or it might not. 

"Eyes on me, Sammy," Dean tells him. He tightens his fingers in Sam's hair and waits for Sam to obey. "I'm the one who's going to be fucking you. No one else." He hands Sam the packet, the remainder of its contents fortunately not smeared through the lining of his pocket. "Use your fingers."

Dean's breathing is considerably heavier by the time Sam is done. "On your feet," he says. Sam stands. Dean shoves him back and fits them together against the wall, one hand stuffed between them and jerking Sam's cock. He presses his own erection into Sam's thigh for no particular reason than to make him feel it.

Sam licks his lips. His gaze is flicking from Dean's eyes to his mouth. "Can I," he starts, a little bit pleading. It used to be strange, hearing that tone of voice in someone Sam's size.

"Sure, Sam," Dean tells him, and enjoys the kiss every bit as much as Sam does.

The event-party-networking thing is still going strong. It sounds like someone's opened up a couple bottles of the good stuff, finally, judging by the surge of noise. Dean takes a good long look at Sam once Sam lets him pull away, and confirms that there is exactly one place he wants to be right now.

He nudges Sam's legs apart with his knee. "Deep breath," he says, and figures he must be doing a good job of getting him worked up when Sam does just that.

There is absolutely fucking nothing like the feeling of that first long fuck into your brother. Dean holds Sam's wrists against the wall on either side as he pushes in, his own fingers between Sam's skin and the jagged rendering on the house, and doesn't wait for Sam to nod before pulling out and slamming back in.

"Fuck," Sam groans, the need to be quiet apparently completely vanished from his head. Dean approves and fucks into him harder. "Fuck, fuck – "

"I know," Dean says again. He wraps his fingers tighter and forces Sam's hands further up the wall, spreads him out wide. "Good?"

"So good," Sam replies. He's sweaty and delicious-looking, open like that, Dean's little brother all fucked apart and writhing with it. Dean likes Sam best like this, completely given over to Dean to do what he wants. There are all sorts of things Dean wants. All of them things Sam wouldn't think of first.

For now, that just means Sam's ass and Dean's dick. So maybe not all new and original. 

"What the – "

Sam's gaze jerks off Dean and his eyes widen. Jesus Christ.

"Eyes front and center, Sammy."

"But – "

Dean growls. He pulls out, takes no particular care in yanking Sam around so he's got his face and chest to the wall, and shoves his dick back inside. He throws a look over his shoulder. "Fuck off," he snaps at the dude stood gaping at the side of the house.

Sam drops his forehead against the wall. It's not quite how Dean wants him, but it'll do for the moment while they get a rhythm going again.

"Hey!" says the joker at the side.

"Fuck off or wait your fucking turn," Dean says, and doesn't look away from Sam this time because fucking hell, would you? Sam is moaning like he was born to but Dean can't hear it so well, the sound muffled by the angle Sam's got his head at. He gets his hand around and under Sam's jaw, drags his head back and fucks into him again. Sam moans it all out and this time Dean can hear it just fine. He smiles. 

"You can't just – "

Look, Dean likes an audience as much as anyone but it's not okay if it's not interrupting Sam's noises. So he stops the snap of his hips and tells the guy, "He's my brother. So yeah, I can just." 

That does the trick. Dean shrugs, making sure to put his whole body into it. 

Sam groans. It's kind of a multi-purpose groan, half exasperated and half really, really turned on. Dean's impressed. 

"You didn't have to do that," Sam tells him. He doesn't sound too upset about it.

"Fuck off wasn't working."

"You're gonna have to finish me quick, though."

Christ. Dean hadn't really thought that far ahead. "You're right," he says. "Sorry, Sammy."

Sam's still speaking in full sentences, which means Dean's got a whole lot of work left. He sets to. One hand still keeping Sam's head back, the other trapping Sam's wrist against the wall, teeth in the curve of his neck and hips pressed snug together. Dick filling Sam's hole right up, working Sam real fucking hard.

Sam regresses to bitten-off moans pretty quickly, because Dean is just that good. This right now is when Dean really resents not having the luxury of their own pool and lawn and super-king-sized bed to fuck his brother in, because just once it would be nice not to have to be quiet like this. Dean wants to be able to draw it all out of Sam without having to think about what the Leviathan will tell people when it finds out. Actually, Dean wants not to have to think about Leviathans while he's having sex at _all_.

When Sam comes, Dean a ragged couple of thrusts after, it's really, really not that quiet. They stay where they are, leaning against the wall just for a minute, while Dean stares at all the blood and gravel he's going to have to wash out of Sam's back later. 

"You think the people who built this place had something against anyone having sex against it?" he asks. The answer's pretty obviously a yes, but Dean wants to get Sam's opinion on the matter before they start lopping off Leviathan heads. It's important to know these things about your brother.

Sam is starting to squirm. Dean holds on tighter. "I could stay here all day," he says warningly, which is actually kind of true. That's something else it's important to know about your brother, and Sam does, so he stops squirming.

"I think next time I'm leaving my shirt on." Sam rolls his shoulders back. Dean stares.

He runs his hand across the cuts, as soothing as he can make it with a whole lot of adrenaline coursing through him still. Shoulda thought ahead and told Sam to put a t-shirt on first. 

Next time he will, Dean thinks. Don't look back.


End file.
